waving hands and held it till Dot drew it away with a sudden frenzied tug.
"You've been a dear little girl," she said. "You haven't uttered a sound. Now, go on being brave, for it's going to be a long while yet."
Her eyes were soft and sympathetic, but Dot hated her that minute. Couldn't she do anything? Did she have to stand there being so professionally kind?
Miss Harris took herself back into the shadows. Dot heard her talking in a low voice outside the door.
"Oh, hello, Bill. Did they get you up?"
A young man's voice answered her. It was less considerate of the sleeping patients than Miss Harris'. "Yes," it boomed. "The operating-room needed a polishing, so I got woke. What's it gonna be, Miss Harris, boy or girl?"
Miss Harris' whispered laughter came through the darkness to Dot. "I don't think I'll bet with you this time, Bill. You're too lucky."
"Aw, go ahead."
"All right. Three dollars it's a girl."
"Fine. I'll say a boy. And what time will it be born?"
"Another two dollars that it doesn't come before dawn," said Miss Harris.
Dot looked at the sky. The stars and the moon seemed to be permanently fixed. There was not the slightest sign of their rushing away from the rosy streaks of morning. It was two o'clock, perhaps. Maybe only one. Dawn. Dawn. Oh, she couldn't wait. She rolled on her side and sank her teeth into her forearm. This was childbirth.
She rang the bell for Miss Harris. "I can't stand it," she cried. "I can't stand it."
Miss Harris smiled slowly. "You must, Mrs. Collins. You can't stand it, but you must."
"I can't." Dot rolled on her bed. There was not the
